A Midsummer's Day
by jansonpls
Summary: It's been almost a year since Lyra and Will saw each other, and each is fulfilling their promise at the bench in the Botanic Gardens.... one shot


Disclaimer- I don't own Will, Kirjava, Lyra, Pantalaimon or Oxford, unfortunately, Philip Pullman does (well, he doesn't own Oxford, but you get the idea). I'm just a huge fan of the amazing trilogy of Northern Lights (Golden Compass to Americans), Subtle Knife and Amber Spyglass, and I had the idea to write this after reading Amber Spyglass for about the third time.   
It's my first HDM fan fic, so don't diss. Though it's at least got proper grammar and spelling. :P Just a short, one-shot thing, 1000 words or so... 

* * *

Will shovelled the last spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth, carried the bowl carefully over to the sink and poured the remaining milk down it. He rinsed it out quickly under the tap; he'd wash it properly later. 

He glanced up at the clock on the wall: ten forty-five. He grabbed the comb from the tidy breakfast table and ran out into the hall, where the nearest mirror was. Using the mirror and comb, he managed to coax his short black hair into a neat parting, trying futilely to make his short bangs stay in one place, out of his eyes. 

"Will, you look fine." 

Will turned towards the source of the voice - a wildcat at the foot of stairs, whose fur was a mix of every colour imaginable, fused together into a subtle beauty surpassed by nothing Will had seen before - and grinned sheepishly. 

"I know, Kirjava... But... I'm so nervous! This is the first year... What if she's forgotten?" 

"She won't have." 

"How do you know, though? I mean, a whole year-" 

"Because she's Lyra! We haven't forgotten her, have we? So she won't have forgotten us, she couldn't have." Kirjava nudged Will's ankle with her head softly, to chide him. 

Will conceded, and bent down to pick up his daemon, hugging her to his chest. "I miss her so much though... It's hard not to imagine..." He broke off quietly. Kirjava purred and licked his face in comfort. 

Will glanced into the mirror one last time, then up at the clock again. It was almost eleven o'clock. "We'd better go," he told his daemon. He put his hand to his belt, where the case holding the pieces of the subtle knife still was, untouched since that night almost a year ago; and together he and Kirjava walked out of the house. 

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The bus ride was shorter than he had thought, and Will found himself at the gates to the Botanic Gardens at a quarter to twelve. A deep breath - and he walked in, slowly strolling past everything but seeing nothing. His mind was distracted, remembering everything from the year before: finding the window in Oxford, just a few streets from here; meeting Lyra for the first time in Ci'gazze; the fight in the Torre degli Angeli; right up to the last night, here in the Gardens, right at the bench he had finally arrived at now. 

He stared at it for a few seconds, thinking, Lyra's there, in her own world, she'll be there soon. Emotion almost overwhelmed him, and he sat down quickly, Kirjava jumping up to sit on his lap. They were silent; Will was lost in his own memories again. 

Then- what was that? Something brief, a fleeting touch, like a gust of wind - but the leaves on the trees didn't stir. A Spectre? But he couldn't see it. Then was it- was it her? He could sense something, a light touch on his hand, but nothing was there. Kirjava looked up into his eyes meaningfully. 

It was her! It was Lyra, and Pantalaimon! 

Will closed his eyes and smiled, a feeling of elation soaring through him, starting from the touch in his hand through his entire body. She had remembered, she was here - a thousand miles away, in her own world, but right next to him here. This feeling - he was so happy - never had he felt this happy, not since the first kiss he had shared with Lyra, in that world so far away. He sunk into the happiness, deep into it, when suddenly something made him open his eyes. 

He frowned briefly, then gasped and turned to his right. How-? How could-? Her dark blonde hair framed a face that echoed his own astonishment; blue eyes full of his own love. They leaned towards each other, wishing silently this moment could last forever, vaguely aware of their daemons doing the same; their lips touched briefly - and then it was gone, the moment destroyed. Her presence lingered in the air beside Will, and he cried out, grasping at the empty space now in her place. 

But she was gone. Whatever angel had permitted the moment had gone; back to the work he should have been doing when the young love resonated throughout the universes. 

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Tears ran down Lyra's face, and she sobbed, hugging Pan tightly to herself. She had thought she would never see her love again, and then for just a passing moment, they had stared into each other's eyes one more time, and she thought it the cruelest thing anyone had ever done. 

"Why?" she cried out, "Why? I love him, I love him so much, and I know I'll never see him again. I want to be with him, forever. I could have stood it if our good-bye was final, because it was a good-bye, but not just a moment! Not just a glance! Will, I love you, you know how much I love you!" 

And she cried again, Pantalaimon sharing her grief. They cried to each other and lay on the bench, trying to breathe in the remnants of their beloved's presence; and finally Lyra fell asleep, tears staining her face, her mind full of dreams of her and Will; for that was the only place they had together now. 

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"Lyra..." Will whispered, and he tore his eyes away from the place her face had been. He and Kirjava looked at each other, their eyes full of tears threatening to overflow. For a second Will considered letting them fall, letting himself cry and cry; but he knew he might never stop, and so he wiped the tears from his eyes and those of his daemon. 

Will lay down on the bench, Kirjava curled up on top of him, and he closd his eyes once again. After a moment, he slept, dreaming like Lyra was, wishing and hoping and dreaming, though he knew it would do no good. 

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And this was how both young lovers were found, a few hours later; still dreaming, still remembering, knowing they would never forget anything about each other and silently promising themselves to be here again, the next year, and the next, the same day, the same time, until they died and could meet again in the world of the dead. 


End file.
